Gemotions

The restaurant was empty. All the staff had left for the night. The review had been brutal, a withering takedown of her attempts at modernizing classic French cuisine. But as Camille wiped down the counter, a calmness washed over her. The critic had accused her of being pretentious. But as she thought about what she made, she realized that she didn't care.

She glanced at the door and smiled at the thought of her loyal clientele. They enjoyed her food. That was all that mattered.

She walked out into the cool air, and inhaled deeply. She knew the work ahead would be long.

She pictured her grandmother, the woman who taught her how to cook. It felt good to be following in her footsteps.
***